


Words Unspoken

by ADashOfStarshine (ADashOfInsanity)



Category: Magic: The Gathering
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, F/M, The events of Ixalan are a road trip
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-04-12 10:35:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19130278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADashOfInsanity/pseuds/ADashOfStarshine
Summary: To pay for her university education, Vraska spends each and every holiday the same way. Touring the country with her rag-tag band and raising funds wherever she can - not always through legitimate means.However, this summer break starts off in a wholly unexpected fashion. Namely, with the unconscious form of the Head of the Student Union, in the middle of nowhere, lying face down in a gutter.Band/University AU.





	1. Rock and Gravel

“Captain,” called Malcolm from the front of the bus, “Captain, there’s someone lying in the road.”

“What?” There was a scramble as everyone tried to get to the front to peer through the windscreen, followed by a round of squeaks and grunts as Malcolm slammed on the brake.

“Captain, he just moved!”

They came to a screeching halt a short distance from the pile of cloth and limbs on the floor. It was barely moving, stirring weakly in the mud and debris of a drainage ditch. The man, Vraska was fairly sure it was a man, was soaked through. Must have been out here through last night’s thunderstorm. They weren’t in the habit of picking up homeless people or hitchhikers, but this one didn’t look like he’d made any sort of effort to cope with the great outdoors.

“Reverse and pull up,” she told Malcolm. “Amelia, with me, let’s go have a closer look.” The stage manager gave her a grim nod, grabbing a piece of stage scaffolding from its position by the backseats. It was there for emergencies. They ran into a surprising number of emergencies that could be solved by a simple steel pipe.

The door to the bus slid open, juddering the occupants inside. Vraska jumped down onto the roadside, her boots splashing in the run off from the storm. Summer thunderstorms were always a pleasure, the heat finally breaking for some much-needed relief. She certainly enjoyed them more however, when she was sleeping inside the bus. There was a much heavier splash as Amelia joined her. As Malcolm eased the bus back down the narrow country road, they approached the soggy heap on the ground. There were no tracks from where this man had come from, but nothing would probably survive the rainfall.

“Why the hell would anyone drag out themselves out here?” said Amelia, “We’re in the ass end of nowhere.”

“No idea, but-“ Vraska cut herself off, flinging an arm out and stopping Amelia in her tracks. Amelia stopped at once, frowning at the serious look that appeared on her leader’s face.

“What is it?” she whispered.

Vraska held up a hand for silence, then gestured for Amelia to stay where she was and be ready.

As silently as possible, considering she was up to her ankles in water, Vraska trod her way up to the wet man-heap. Now they were closer, she definitely recognised that preppy blue polo shirt. She’d recognise it anywhere. It was in tatters, as were those too-tight skinny jeans.  She glanced around for his coat and saw no such thing. It was impossible. What would he be doing all the way out here? He wasn’t the only person she knew that might wear a polo shirt. However, he was the only one who had those ridiculously high jeans with the white symbols on the leg. They were covered in mud, but she definitely could see the tell-tale stripes, and the tattoos on his face.

“I think he’s coming round,” said Amelia. She still kept her distance.

Vraska drew her sword. The sword that was definitely a stage prop and not encrusted with the blood the man who had tried to mug her in the last parking lot.

“You have a lot of nerve turning up here, Beleren.” She strode up to the man, blade first.

Whenever they had met, Jace Beleren had made it his purpose to ruin her every endeavour, humiliating her in front of all the authority he could muster. He was the administration’s faithful lackey, with all the appearance of power, but really, he was a lapdog for the ruling classes. Now, somehow, he had found her in the middle of the summer holidays.

“Speak! What are you doing here?”

Jace moaned weakly. Now she was this close, it was definitely him. He rolled over onto his side, mud dripping from his hair and clothing. Now his face was further exposed, she noticed it was caked in blood. He was so weak all he could do was squirm in the gutter, barely aware that he was even being threatened.

Dear gods, what had happened to him?

He was pathetic.

Vraska lowered her blade.

“Amelia, help me get him into the bus. We’re not going to get any answers out of him unless he’s conscious.”

* * *

 

Jace had drunk his way through half a box of Capri Suns.  They had now pulled up at a supermarket to restock. The one member of the group who had any medical knowledge, suggested he might need some vitamins to help fend off a cold. The last service station didn’t stock vitamin supplements, so fortified orange drinks it was.  He had been told to wait in the bus, so here he was. Sat comfortably on one of the backseats, he was reading his way through an old copy of Dead/Gone magazine, which seemed to be some sort of fashion guide for people who liked leather and large stompy boots. 

The last few days had been a whirlwind of discovery. Jace had no idea how he had ended up half-dead at the side of the road.  He had vague recollections of gravel, there had certainly been a lot of it in his hair.  If he’d been carrying any possessions, they had long gone. All he had to work on was his torn-up poloshirt (blue with a white collar and buttons), and his jeans (really too tight and impractical for walks in the woods. They were in such disrepair they’d been thrown in a dumpster.) He also had some tattoos, strange white tattoos that didn’t seem to mean anything in particular.  He’d been grateful for an extra-large band shirt to cover them up. It stopped him poking at them and his injuries.

He was grateful to this band in general. Of all the people that could have found him, he certainly wasn’t expecting a travelling rock band and their tour bus. To be honest, he wasn’t expecting to be found at all. Yet, he was immensely thankful that they hadn’t just left him there to drown in the gutter.  Vraska, who was evidently in charge, somehow knew him from before he was roadkill. She hadn’t said much about it, but he got the impression that the experience wasn’t positive. Apparently, he’d embarrassed her in front of some very important people. He had no idea why he’d be so mean. Vraska was firm, a little stern, but she was clearly kind enough to show charity to someone she hadn’t particularly liked. Jace wanted her to like the new him. He could barely remember what the old Jace was like, so maybe she’d like this one better?

“I hope you like barbeque.”

Jace jumped as the door to the bus slid back open. In traipsed the band members, laden with bags of shopping.

“I hope I like barbeque too,” he replied, “Can I help carry anything?”

Vraska shook her head.

“You can help us set up when we get to Adanto Sands. We’re doing a gig at the caravan site. It’s traditional to follow up a show with a good meal.”

“Can I watch your show?

“Sure, you can even help Amelia sell t-shirts if you want.”

Jace nodded eagerly.  After sharing this bus with all these interesting people, he really wanted to hear them play their music. If he had ever been to a gig before, he certainly couldn’t remember it.  Everyone here was a big chaotic family and he’d like to see the fruits of their labour, what they’d all been so excited for all trip.

He didn’t have to wait long. They arrived at Adanto Sands that afternoon, weaving their way through parked vans and pedal bikes. The little town clearly thrived off tourism. Jace peered out the back window and watched a parade of fish and chip shops, gift store and ice cream parlours pass by. Suncream-smeared children ran up and down the streets, chasing their friends in pedal bikes, two or three to a brightly coloured vehicle. Seagulls watched over a small playpark, ready to ambush unwary picnickers.  They took a sudden left and rumbled down a rocky driveway, up to a set of battered white gates. Not that he’d seen any other caravan parks lately, but Jace thought this one looked a little worse for wear. Only half the pitches were filled, despite how busy the town was in the middle of summer. The metal fence around the exterior had taken a beating in multiple places. What looked like a small shop had its windows bordered up in places, one had been replaced entirely with a blue plastic sheet.

Despite their slightly shabby surroundings, the excitement in the bus was palpable.  Jace eagerly helped with the unloading. The boxes he’d been sleeping on turned out to be full of speakers and stage equipment. He wasn’t allowed to touch anyone’s instruments, but they were more than happy to let him put up banners and posters. Amelia directed him to a fold out camping table which was surrounded by cardboard boxes. This was where he was going to be tonight, selling t-shirts. As she let him unpack, Amelia said something rather odd.

“I’m going to have to leave you at points throughout the show. Got a few trades to make for the Captain, won’t be gone for more than ten minutes at a time.”

“Trades?” Jace asked, “What are you trading?”

Amelia smirked and tapped the side of her nose with one finger. Jace noticed that she had a tattoo of a feather on that finger but was none the wiser about what she meant.

Jace was given a series of small but useful tasks throughout the evening, seemingly to keep him busy and out of the way of the band’s warm up. People kept going into the bus and coming out with new outfits. Jace tried not to ogle but there was a lot of ripped shirts, tall boots and tight corsets going on. Jace felt very under-dressed for the occasion in his band-tee and borrowed tracksuit trousers. He didn’t have any make-up or hair gel, an eyepatch or even a decorative belt. He kind of wanted a belt… did the old him like belts?

“How are you doing?”

He jumped as Vraska approached him from across the site. She looked so good in her stage costume, he was momentarily lost for words. She wore a frilly black shirt which was ripped and torn in places, showing a green striped shirt and a little more cleavage than Jace was wholly able to cope with. Over that, and a pair of striped leggings, she wore a long leather coat, fastened round the waist with a studded belt and a brassy buckle shaped like a skull.  He now understood why everyone called her the Captain. Once they had discarded their normal clothes and got dressed up, there was a definite pirate theme to everything. Was pirate rock a thing? He didn’t really know anything about music.

 “I-I’m good, it’s all been very interesting, watching everyone set up.”

“Glad you’re not getting bored. Entry starts about eight, show starts at nine. We’ve got drinks and snacks in the bus if you want to stock up before it starts.”

“Thanks,” Jace hesitated for a moment.  Vraska noticed  and raised an eyebrow at him.

“What is it?”

“I-“ Jace paused a moment, he was going to need to think about how he worded this,

“I’m not trying to intrude but… Amelia told me she was going to have to leave me on the stall alone for a bit. She said she was making some trades for you. What are you trading?”

Vraska glanced over to where Amelia was supervising the positioning of lights.

“Don’t worry about it. She’s just sorting out the band’s finances.”

He didn’t entirely believe her, but he trusted her judgement. She’d saved his life, made sure he’d got better, and included him in her group. If he needed to know, she would tell him.

The sky had just started to go dark as the audience began to arrive. Admission was paid at the gates and now everyone was just milling around waiting for the show to begin. Jace did his best to wave and be friendly, but Amelia was definitely in charge of the pre-show crowd. It didn’t seem anyone in attendance was actually staying in the caravan park. People were showing up in groups, others on the back of motorcycles.  Nearly everyone was drinking. Many had dressed for the pirate theme, complete with three pointed hats, eye patches, and soft toy parrots.  Jace spotted someone who had already bought a band shirt at another gig. He’d paired it with a bright red bandana and a plastic hook in his hand.

It started with a bang of fake cannon fire. Jace jumped in shock and Amelia merely laughed. The crowd cheered as the band strode out, Vraska in the lead, microphone in hand. Jace gasped again. He hadn’t actually asked what she did in the band, but he should have guessed she was lead singer!

The gig was amazing. It was loud and stompy and everyone seemed to be having the best time. Jace had no idea what was a cover and what was original, but the crowd knew all the words and shouted them back. The lyrics were bold and rebellious. Vraska strode about the make-shift stage, her voice deep and powerful. She sung of rebelling against authority, taking each day as it comes, living your best life and loving being you. Wrapped up in metaphors of the sea, there was a rebellious pride that Jace couldn’t help but be enraptured by.  He almost missed Amelia slipping away. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her lift something out of a box of tshirts. It looked like a tin of biscuits. It was shaped like a biscuit tin, and seemed to be metal like a biscuit tin, but why would you need to hide that?  He said nothing as she darted away and focused his attention back on the dancing. Amelia made multiple trips back and forth from throughout the gig. It was often enough that Jace began to wonder how many of these t-shirt boxes actually contained t-shirts.

The most exciting part of the show however, had to be the vampires. Jace had decided that maybe he could try a beer, and was about to go get one, when suddenly there was a mighty cry from behind the stage. People in black suits suddenly burst on stage as loud footsteps came thundering from the entry gate. Before Jace could really understand what was going on, Vraska had pulled out a sword from her captain’s coat. The band members, on and off stage, were pulling weapons from goodness knows where. Breeches suddenly leapt out from behind the drums, knife in one hand, chain in the other.

“DEATH AND BEER AND FIGHTING!”

Some of the audience were looking about in confusion, but others were more than ready to join in the fray. As suited men and women began to surround the gig-goers, they were assaulted with glass bottles and camping chairs. Jace looked about for Amelia, and found her several feet away, wielding a knife as long as her forearm. What was going on?

He abandoned the t-shirts as the table was knocked to the ground. He summoned a pair of illusions, identical to himself so no one would know quite where to stab.  Fumbling through the crowd, for the briefest moment he was reminded of the seagulls, ganging up on the families in the playpark.  He saw one of the suited invaders grab an audience member by the throat, fangs bared. He shot an illusion at the man. It manifested as a gigantic sea gull, barrelling at the man’s face. In shock, he dropped the fan, who promptly punched him in the face.  Jace released a torrent of illusionary seagulls, hampering the invaders, distracting and confusing anyone in a suit.

Up on the stage, Vraska was fighting three opponents at once.  One of the vampires had a metal baton that was making solid impact after solid impact with the length of Vraska’s sword. A fourth vampire, a woman only differentiated from her colleagues by a large gold broach, leapt up onto the stage. Scared that she would soon be overwhelmed, Jace made a beeline for Vraska’s position, even if he wasn’t quite sure what he’d do when he got there. Bounding up onto the stage, he slid between Vraska and the vampire woman, hands in front of him as if to push her back. Instead, a wall of squawking wings erupted from his palms. A solid barricade of seagulls pushed back the vampire, stunning her long enough for Jace land a fist solidly into her face.  He spun about just in time to see a heavily bleeding man slump to the ground and another stagger two steps back, hand clutched over his face.  His eyes met Vraska’s as she handily disarmed the baton user and landed a solid kick to his stomach. He opened his mouth to say something, when suddenly she cried out

“Jace! Behind-“

He felt clawed fingers scrape against his neck when suddenly the fingers stilled. He whipped round, just in time to see the woman he’d punched open her mouth in shock, before she was entirely turned to stone. He took a step backwards, free of her now statuesque grasp.

“Vraska, you…you saved me!” He turned to look at her. She was breathing hard, surrounded by collapsed or dead figures in crisp black suits.

“You turned her into stone!” Jace continued. Somehow, out of all the amazing things that had happened this evening, that was the most spectacular of them all.

“Yeah, I do that sometimes,” she replied, wiping her sword on the nearest vampire and surveying the carnage off stage.

“It’s amazing,” he hurried to her side as she stared at him, almost quizzically.

“Really? You’re not frightened?”

“No,” Jace replied shaking his head, “You’re so talented. You can sing, fight and turn people into stone! You’re amazing!”

Vraska looked a little lost for words. Sheathing her sword, she took a moment to kick the body of a vampire away from their lighting equipment. For a few seconds, neither of them spoke, the cries of gig-goers echoing around them.

“Jace?” 

“Yeah?”

She turned back to him.

“You probably won’t be surprised to hear we’re not just a travelling band.  I think we could work really well together…if you’d like to join our mission.”

Jace stared at her wide-eyed. Was this it? Was she going to let him know what all these mysterious trades were about? Was he about to learn the secrets behind this big chaotic family? Did she truly wish him to join? Could he be a member now?! He couldn’t help but beam from ear to ear as he proclaimed:

“I'd love to!”

She gave a hesitant smile back, as if caught off-guard by his sheer enthusiasm.

“Come on then, I'll fill you in. But first, I think we’ve got a few more mooks to slay.”


	2. Tea and Lemonade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Belligerent crew pulls up at the High and Dry for a night of drinking under the stars. Jace learns a little more than he expected about the band's fearsome Captain.

They didn’t stick around long after the battle.  After the guests had gone home, and they had made sure no police were waiting for them outside the gate, they started to make a move. The owners of the caravan park were remarkably well prepared for a large amount of dead vampire. They even helped the crew pack everything back into the bus, and waved them off as workers piled bodies up behind the shop.  It didn’t seem like Vraska had intended for them to stay the night. Jace had guessed as much as they hadn’t even unpacked any of the food they had bought to barbecue. Jammed back into the bus, they carried on down the coastline. Adrenaline was still high, and there were many loud explanations of particularly spectacular feats of violence. Jace could see them in his mind’s eye, though he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen them in person. However, with every story he was greeted with heroic visionsof pipes against vampires' faces.  Jace meanwhile found himself packed into the backseats with Vraska and Amelia. There was a stack of metal briefcases at their feet, partially obscured by a stray t-shirt.  He didn’t have to wonder what they contained for very long.

“Captain?” asked Amelia, as they paused for traffic.

“Yes?” Vraska replied.

“We’ve got a lot of cash just sitting in the bus right now. It’s going to look mighty suspicious if the cops decide to pull us over.”

Jace stared wide eyed between them both.  They were speaking quietly but he was right there. Did they realise he could hear everything?

“After the High and Dry, we’ll be heading to Durron. We can all go to the right banks, make some payments, get some prescriptions, visit some relatives.” Vraska gave Amelia a significant look at the last activity in that list. Jace glanced at Amelia and, in the corner of his mind’s eye, he thought he saw something. A younger Amelia? No a teenage girl who looked a lot like Amelia, in small room, reading a book.  He blinked and the vision was gone. What was that? An illusion? No, something different.

“Did someone say High and Dry?” came a call from the driver’s seat. There was the sound of wheels on gravel, a series of plinks and thuds as they were beset by a wave of small stones. Jace sat up in his seat, peering through the curtained windows as they approached a large pub, sat seemingly by itself in a large grassy area, overlooking the sea.  The band members began to cheer and talk even more excitedly amongst themselves as Malcolm pulled up on the grass, right next to the large white building.

The High and Dry looked like it had once been a hotel of sorts. The remnants of seashells and old historic faces were still plastered onto the walls, but everything had been weathered by the sea winds and a definite coat of grime.  What had once been a stately veranda was now a battered outdoor smoking area, complete with patio heaters and umbrellas bearing the slogans of various breweries.  The windows were so dirty, you would think the place shut, but as the band started pouring in, he could hear music blasting out every time the door swung open.  Jace caught a glimpse of torn leather chairs and a flashing juke box inside. Neon signs proclaimed the building to both be open and have rooms available. A battered looking sign, attacked to a solitary lamp post, declared the location to have live music and a selection of craft beers. That didn’t seem to be what the band was here for however.

“We’re setting up!” called Amelia from round the back. Jace went to have a look, just in time to be handed a tent and told to pitch it. He did his best as band members streamed out of the back of the pub, drinks in hand. They came back with one of the owners of the place – a fabulously dressed siren woman with a bright blue mohawk. She talked with Vraska, then Amelia, before heading back inside. From what Jace could gather, the band were regulars here at the High and Dry, making a stop here every time they travelled up and down the coast. They brought sold-out performances with them and therefore were granted the rights to camp out back. There was a small garden out there, full of string lights and picnic benches. Beyond that, they began to set up all manner of camping gear. Tents, fold-out tables and chairs and multiple boxes and coolers. The owner wheeled out a large barbeque for them and there was immediately a cluster of people getting it working.

“Here.”

Jace found the tent pole he was holding was gone from his hand, as Vraska showed him how to put it in the canvas. After he’d got the hand of what went where, he was putting up tents like an professional, if such a thing existed. As he gently knocked pegs into the ground, he found himself surrounded by a babble of chatter. Occasionally, he made to reply, turning to the person he thought had spoken. However, as soon as he looked over, he realised their mouths were closed, even if he could still hear them talking in his head. Thoroughly weirded out by this, he was left contemplating this bizarre turn of events as he made sure their accommodation wouldn’t blow away. The amount of chatter was becoming overwhelming. Yet, the closer he looked, the less people were actually speaking. Sure, there was a group arguing over the barbecue, and another in the patio area having drinks. However, everyone setting up, everyone sat on the grass, seemed to be content by themselves. They weren’t saying anything. So why could he hear them?

Was this a him thing? Could anyone else hear this? If these weren’t their spoken words then, what were they? Thoughts? Could he _read minds_? Jace stared at his hands, covered in sweat and grime. He was an illusion mage wasn’t he? People liked his seagulls a lot, he was still getting thanks for them.  Illusions were easy. To prove the point to himself, he made an illusionary cat pace around the tent he was fixing down. Yet, mind reading? Telepathy? That was a bit much. How could he tell anyone he’d heard their innermost thoughts? They’d think he was rude for sure. It was a complete invasion of privacy! He didn’t want to be chucked out at the side of the road again. He owed these people so much. Screwing up his face in concentration, he tried to block the voices out. Like candles being blown out on a cake, most of them sputtered out, but a few remained, burning brightly in the back of his mind. He tried again. This wouldn’t do! He couldn’t do this! The voices died out and he knelt on the grass, panting hard. He didn’t like that. Not at all. He needed to tell someone what he’d accidentally done. He needed to apologise. There was only one person he trusted enough to tell. Getting to his feet, he feebly brushed the grass stains off his trousers and went looking for Vraska.

She was in the patio area, orange glow of the heat lamps glimmering off the scales of her hair. He crossed through a gap in the hedges, stood there awkwardly for a moment, and then reached forward to tap her on the shoulder

“DON’T!”

Jace almost fell over from the force with which he’d jumped. He grabbed hold of the nearest hedge, frozen like a deer in the headlights. Vraska’s eyes were glowing bright gold and she was breathing extremely hard. He suddenly felt very cold. The balmy summer night had faded all around him, colour draining, sounds dying out, replaced by darkness and the feeling of despair. For a moment, he was surrounded by blank stone walls, and then, just as suddenly, everything was back.  

Amelia got to her feet, crossing to him in three long strides.

“No one touches the Captain,” she growled, “If you don’t keep your hands to yourself, I’ll-“

“Amelia,” Vraska interrupted, “Amelia, it’s fine, he didn’t know.”

She didn’t sound fine.

“I’m-I’m sorry,” he stammered.

She waved a hand at him.

“There’s no need to be sorry, just don’t do it again.”

He retreated a little, wandering back to his now completed tents. At the corners of his mind, he could hear speech. He did his best not to focus on it as everyone started lining up for food. He followed suit, wondering if Vraska would ever forgive him, mind awhir at possible reasons as to why she couldn’t handle physical contact. It definitely had something to do that cold stone room. Jace was sure that was something he’d accidentally pulled from her mind. Was he going to have to confess to that too? Ugh, what was she going to think?

Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait long to find that out.  Kerrigan, who had fought hard and become Barbecuer-in-Chief, handed him a paper plate with both a hot dog and a burger on it. It was a lot of food and he was more than happy to escape the queue with his new found plunder.  He was trying to work out if Malcolm and Breeches would mind his company, when suddenly he found a can of lemonade being thrust into his spare hand. It was Vraska, who had a pair of towels in one hand and a plate of hot dogs in the other. A bag slung over her shoulder clinked with further cans.

“Want to come sit on the beach with me?”

He nodded eagerly and followed her away from the High and Dry and down the hill. Their walk was silent except for the wind and the distant cry of gulls. The sun was making an attempt at going down, but the summer kept it high even this late into the evening. Long shadows sprawled over the unkempt grass, studded with the occasional rock or broken piece of fence. Far from the nearby resorts, this area of the coast was almost untouched except for the occasional tracks of dog-walkers. The ground got pebblier the lower they travelled, causing Jace’s feet to slip and sink in the gravel. He let out yelps every time the dirt gave way underneath him, making Vraska chuckle a little behind her towels. By the time they got to the beach, they were both thoroughly covered in grass and tiny pebbles. Seemingly unphased, Vraska lay out her towels on the beach, to give them something slightly softer to sit on than the rocks.  For a little while, they simply did that – sat there and enjoyed their meals, watching the lapping of the waves against the shore. Some odd wooden beams stuck out of the ocean, just far enough for Jace to see them. He couldn’t help but wonder what they had once been. A pier? A old ship? Some rubbish someone had dumped in the ocean? He pointed them out to Vraska when his curiosity got the better of him.

“I’m not sure,” she replied, “The owners of the High and Dry say that it’s part of an old dock. Smugglers used to visit these parts about a century ago, around about the same time as the hotel was built. They used to come do their business at the hotel, as it was in the middle of nowhere. Nothing much changes I guess.”

She took a swig out of a can that didn’t look like lemonade.

“What do you mean?” Jace asked.  

She turned to look at him.  The gold of her eyes matched the sunset behind her.  Out of her stage garb, she wore tight black jeans and shoulderless green tee with the words “HEROINE IN SPIKED ARMOUR” scrawled across it in paint-strokes. Jace wondered if that was another band as he noted the large number of scars that criss-crossed her arms and shoulders. How many fights had she been in to get all those?

Vraska raised one hand to her shoulder, as she had noticed the direction of his gaze.

“Smugglers,” she stated, “That’s what we are. In addition to a travelling band. We’re hired to transport cargo up and down the coast. Everything from cigarettes to firearms to counterfeit art. No one suspects the rock band on their summer holiday from uni.”

Jace stared at her wide-eyed. So that was why they had so much cash in the van? Wait…

“Are we doing crimes?” he asked, surprised at his own revelation.

Vraska laughed a little.

“Yes, Jace, we’re doing crimes. Is that a problem?”

He bit his lip. Breaking the law was an instant ‘yes’ to that question. Grass was green, the sky was blue, you shouldn’t do crimes, they were all facts of life. However, Vraska was a very intelligent person. All the band were intelligent people. There had to be a reason why they’d gone down  this route, both figuratively and literally.

“Why?” he asked, “I thought you were at university?”

Those things weren't mutually exclusive, but he felt like he had a point. She was smart and extremely talented, why did she need to do crime?

“We wouldn’t be doing it if we didn’t have to,” Vraska sighed, “Otherwise, we’d probably be a happy little band on our holidays. Everything we appear to be. No, we’ve all got costs to pay that no one is going to help us with. We need the money and we need lots of it. So that’s why we’re here.”

Jace couldn’t help but dig further.

“No one will help you?” he asked. She raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’m not going to go sharing everyone’s sob stories,” she stated, “But just know, every person here has a debt or a disabled relative or a tuition fee that they’ve got no other way of funding. Me. I need to make money to eat, to pay rent, to pay for all my text books, living costs, everything they don’t cover in a student loan.”

That made sense, but he still had questions.

“Can’t you get a maintenance grant, or a scholarship or something?” he asked.

She burst out laughing, spilling her beer onto the towel beneath her.

“You forget your own name, your home, how to open a crisp packet, but you can remember _maintenance loans_?” she said incredulously, “Fuck me, you really are the student union president through and through aren’t you?”

Her voice had turned slightly bitter at the end and Jace couldn’t help but frown at her.

“I’m the what?”

“Student Union President,” she repeated, “It’s what you were before you, I don’t know, found yourself in a ditch. It’s like being the Head Student I guess. You work with the adults to decide what’s best for the rest of us. No offence, but you were awful.”

None taken.

“That sounds like a lot of responsibility,” Jace commented, “And pressure. I don’t think I’m good with either of those things.”

Being the Head Student of a university sounded terrifying.  Why had he ever chosen to do that?

“You weren’t great,” she replied, “You pretty much did whatever the adults told you to do. You didn’t stand up for the rights of students. You didn’t stand up for shit.”

Jace instantly felt bad. He had a dawning suspicion of why she had once been so angry at him. Had he failed to stand up for her?  A student who needed to commit crime to support herself?

“Did I stop you getting a scholarship?” he asked her, “Or a loan? Did-did I make your life worse?”

Her expression immediately softened.

“Please don’t give me that look,” she said, her voice a little gentler.

“What look?” he asked.

“Like you’re a puppy I’ve just kicked,” she said, “This is going to sound weird but… I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at the man you were.  You’re different now.  You’re stronger, more confident, you know how to smile.”

He couldn’t help but do exactly that at her praise.

“I think I am different now,” he replied, “Whoever I was, I can’t remember him, so I’ll just make a new me. A better me. Not the one you knew back at university.”

She smiled back at him and he felt himself blush.

“I’m a barista back on campus,” she commented, “During term time. That’s how we first met. You drank a hell of a lot of coffee. You probably wouldn’t even remember me if you had your memories, no one remembers the person who makes you drinks at six am.”

A barista? Somehow, he found that hard to imagine.  The neat uniform, the little apron, it didn’t suit someone who strode up and down a stage in pirate gear. However, the discussion of their first meeting brought back the question he’d wanted to ask earlier.

“Vraska?” he asked tentatively, “Did the old me, I mean, do you know if I can read minds?”

She grimaced.

 _“Yes you can”_ she thought back at him. He jumped, dropping his empty lemonade can. It clanked as it rolled down the beach before it lay with a ‘sput’ in the wet sand. He leapt to his feet to try and get it, but too late, it had been swept out to sea.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked Vraska, sitting back down, hoping that the can wasn’t going to hurt any wildlife.

“ _Because I didn’t want you reading my mind or the minds of anyone in the band, without asking_ ,” she replied.

He took a deep breath. She was right.

“Seeing people’s minds is…a lot,” he stated, “One hundred different bells all chiming at once. But they’re all so fragile.”

Not it was her turn to look curious.

“What’s it like?” she asked, “Being in people’s minds?”

“Noisy,” he replied, “Like walking through a shop full of ringing glassware and desperately not trying to touch anything.”

“Like a bull in a china shop,” she commented, “Or a sledgehammer in a junkyard.”

He nodded. As she spoke, something swam into view that he didn’t think came from her mind or the beach around them. A lion, no, not a lion, it had a man’s face. The man’s face was sobbing, wailing like a new born baby as his giant lion body writhed and thumped upon a concrete floor. A great sense of fear washed over him. Fear and despair, his, but not the him of today. What had happened? What had he done in this situation? What had happened to this lion-man? This sphinx?

“I wonder if I’ve broken any,” he mused, “Minds. They seem so fragile.”

Vraska went very still next to him.

He turned to her, fearing the worst.

“Have I?” he asked, horror creeping into his tone, “Vraska, did-did I break people’s minds when you knew me last?”

He refused to delve into her mind, not after she’d expressly told him she didn’t want that. But he couldn’t switch it all off. He could feel a sense of fear around her. Had he done that? Please say he hadn’t done that. After a moments hesitation, she took two cans out of her bag. Passing one to him, she drank from the other, seemingly to steady her nerves.

“Would you redeem yourself, if you had?” she asked.  It wasn’t like her to answer a question with a question. He was surprised.

“To ruin someone’s mind,” he murmured, “I-I can only imagine that’s a fate worse than death. Or death at the very least. How can you live without your mind?  You’re-you’re pretty much asking - can you redeem yourself after you’ve killed someone.”

He took a sip from the can and spluttered a little. Ok, that wasn’t lemonade.

“Pretty much,” she repeated, her voice so soft it was almost drowned out by the tide.

He took a moment to think it over. He was in a weird position, perhaps the best pisition, to answer this.

“Who we are,” he began, slowly saying the words as if he had to learn them all over again, “changes with what we experience. Our sense of self, it shifts through changing circumstances. It is shaped by what we experience. So, by that logic, the fact we can make new choices, better choices, shapes us into a new or better person. You get to choose who you are. Who you will become depends on how you choose to approach the future.”

Vraska was staring at him.

“Is the past you really that unimportant to you now?” she asked.

Jace shrugged. Did he really have a choice? He couldn’t remember who past him even was.

“I guess he shaped who I am today, somehow,” he replied, “If my abilities, my magic, are as powerful as I think they are, I’ve probably hurt a lot of people. But it’s what I do with them in the future what will make me who I am. My choices will shape who I become.”

There was a moment of silence as they drank and listened to the waves. The sun was far lower now, casting pink hues across the sky, darkening the clouds into purplish blurs upon the horizon.  He couldn’t help but enjoy the silence. Like him, Vraska didn’t seem to be fussed about small talk. Some people were exhausting, trying to fill every possible moment with chatter. However silences like these were simple. They were just _nice_.

“I wish I could forget,” Vraska murmured over the crash of waves. Jace jumped a little.

“Forget what?” he replied. Her gaze fell to the horizon. As he watched she crumpled the can in one hand, her nails leaving dents in the metal.

“Prisons,” she whispered. Jace stared at her, wide eyed. Prisons? Multiple prisons. She couldn’t be any older than, what, twenty? How had she ended up in multiple prisons? She shivered slightly as the sun continued to set.

“Do-Do you want to go back to camp?” he suggested.  He had an idea. It may not work, but it was an idea nevertheless.

They went back to camp, but instead of heading to the raucous back garden, where the band members appeared to be having a party, they went into the High and Dry. The place was adeserted, except for the lone barwoman who nodded at them as they arrived.

“Could we get some tea?” Jace asked her. She nodded and went out back.  They sat on a low set of sofas that smelt like cleaning product and fried food. He wasn’t sure he was supposed to, but he chose to sit next to her, sinking into the sofa cushions as they sagged beneath their weight.  The barwoman came back with two chipped mugs sporting sports team logos, before disappearing back behind the bar. Jace added milk to Vraska’s tea, how he knew she liked it, and offered her the mug. Looking slightly surprised, she took it and cradled it between her hands. It was so late that even the music had been turned down to a whisper. They sat in seclusion, far away from prying eyes and ears. Perhaps it was realising this that got Vraska talking.

“We live many hours north of here,” she murmured, “We’ll go back that way eventually. That’s where our uni is. I grew up there, though not in such a nice part. Where I grew up was a shit-hole. Drug-busts every night, you’d hear the neighbours thump each other through the walls, people would get stabbed walking home from work.  Then one night, it seemed the police had enough. They swept through the neighbourhood, arresting everyone and anyone they thought was remotely suspicious. Because I was a gorgon, I was suspicious. The world’s most suspicious god-damn eight year old.”

Jace couldn’t stop himself looking appalled.

“I did nothing. I just existed. But they packed us all into prison regardless. People would riot. People would die and their bodies were thrown out with the medical waste. No idea how long I was in that one. No windows. No light. Just riot, move, torture, riot, move torture. They kept me blindfolded, gagged, chained, because they hated and feared what I was.”

She took a shaky breath.

“You lose track of time when they take your senses away like that. Eventually they separated me, scared of the starving gorgon girl.  Locked me up in a room filled with mold. The beatings continued. The wounds I got quickly became infected. I considered petrifying myself, just for an out. But I wanted out more than I wanted to die.

Jace wanted to say something, anything, but it was not the time. Now was the time to listen.

“Eventually someone found out there was a child in there. Gods knows who, I was dying, I had no idea where they were taking me. I assumed they were going to throw me out with the rubbish.  I woke up in a locked hospital room, tied to the bed like an animal in a pen. I freaked out, panicked, petrified one of the nurses who came to look at me. They threw me right back in prison for that. Junior Detention Centre, but it was prison never the less. Stone walls, silence, shouts if you ever toed out of line.  All I could do was sit in my cell and think. Just me and my memories of all the torture, all the beatings, everything I had endured.”

She took a sip of her tea.

“I realised that the only way I could get out was perfect behaviour. The only way I could seek justice was to be so good that they’d let me see a lawyer. So I was perfect. It confused the hell out of them. They bounced me between maximum security ward and maximum security ward, not sure what to do with this little monster who said all her pleases and thank yous, did her lessons and quietly read whatever was given to her from the library. No matter how hard they hit me. No matter what abuse they threw at me.  I was pleasant, charming even, and pleased every inspector who came to look at me. After a while I was allowed to study. I did my exams behind bars, aced every one.  I drew the attention of some local papers, and then some local lawyers. Finally, I got representation. They forced me to see doctors and psychiatrists to assess my state of body and mind. The doctors took photos of my scars, photos I never expected to see splashed over the newspapers in the coming weeks.”

She shuddered.

“Court happened. Shortly after I took my A-levels. I was applying for university at the time, confident I would finally be out. And I was, but not after I had to endure every description of my monstrosity, how I had apparently killed that nurse in malice, how a terrified child had killed a woman in cold blood. Of course, this was ruled nonsense, but it hurt. I left that courtroom free, but deciding that things needed to be changed. That this couldn’t happen to the next non-human who grew up in a dodgy neighbourhood. I decided I wanted to study Law, then become a politician and change how the country treated other races. That’s the aim anyway.”

She took a large gulp of tea.

“University isn’t making it easy. Sure I got my place, with my results and fame, it would be absurd to reject me. However, when I got there, a few months in, I discovered all the grants and scholarships other students were getting. Students in my field with worse results, worse grades, than mine were being rewarded with cash whilst I was working three jobs and scavenging free food from student events. So I accosted the Student Union, asking why I wasn’t made aware that high-achieving students got assistance. I hit walls at every turn, some turned me away, some just laughed. So I started investigating, talking to other students, and many had the same story as me. Not human, not a ‘respectable’ race or from a ‘respectable’ background? The university wouldn’t give you the time to day. I’m still protesting. But I got to run these gigs over the summer to keep me living there at all.”

She finished off her tea with a sigh. They sat in silence for a moment.

“I have to do right for others like me. Even if I have to carry sketchy shit across the country to do it. I’m getting that degree, then a Masters, and then I’m heading straight for the government. I’ve got an in now.”

“A job offer?” Jace asked, feeling it was finally safe to break his silence.

“No,” she said, “Our current employer, the one who sent us on our main mission this summer, has promised me a position in city law when I graduate. He’s also going to pay for my living costs, and my Masters. All I’ve got to do is steal some hard drive for him. Then I can leave all this crime behind. Be an honest politician.”

She laughed a little, but the sound was sad.

“If only.”

Jace fiddled with his mug a little, rolling it between his hands.

“I think you’ll be a really good politician,” he commented, “You’ve already proven what a good leader you are, being responsible for all these people who look up to you.”

He gestured at the back door towards the band.

“And you clearly understand the communities you’re trying to protect. Look how much you’ve achieved so far! Maybe you were always meant to create great things!”

Vraska frowned a little. She looked incredibly sad.

“Er, Vraska?” Had he said something wrong? Her gaze was on the table.

“No one has ever said that to me before," she mumbled, "Said I’ve done great things, I mean”

What? No one had ever congratulated on her on all she’d done? All she’d survived? She’d been through hell and back! How had no one ever applauded her strength, her bravery?

“But you have,” he protested, “You’ve done so much, survived so much, you’re amazing!”

She merely sighed.

“What happens when I get into that office and they just see me as a monster again?”

“You get to decide how they see you,” Jace insisted. She looked unsure, so he continued:

“Didn’t we just talk about how we change with our experiences? Well it’s kind of the same with other people, right? How they perceive us depends on how we present ourselves to them. You’ve become the sort of person they have to respect. You’ve been through hell, and you’ve come out of it an intelligent and compassionate person ready to make the world a better place. You’ve become the leader you’ve always wanted to be!”

She didn’t look convinced.

“What makes you _you_ , isn’t what happened in the past, it’s the choices you make in the future,” he insisted, “Just like I can choose to be a new me, you can choose who you’re going to become. Isn’t it the perfect revenge on everyone who hurt you? To come back, alive, but also stronger, a more powerful person than your captors could ever imagine? Someone who now has authority over _them_? You’re incredible, smart, strong, brave, beautiful…”

He hadn’t meant to say that last one. It had just slipped out but there was going back now.

“Don’t you realise how amazing you are?”

Her hair curled round in her face as she turned uncharacteristically bashful. She smiled over the rim of her now-empty mug, a green glow emanating from her cheeks.

“Thank you,” she said softly, “You’re… It’s more than I deserve.”

“You deserve that and more,” he replied, “To have gone through all that and come out the other side… I reckon I couldn’t have done it.”

“I don’t know,” she mused, “It’s not obvious perhaps, but I think you have more strength than you give yourself credit for.”

 “If I do, I don’t remember it,” Jace said. He cleared his throat a little, trying to stay serious.

“But, thank you, really. Thank you for sharing your story with me. I know it must have been hard. I-I’m proud to have met you. To know you.”

At the edges of his mind, he could feel hers but did not dare intrude inside. The barrier between them felt like sugar-paper, thin, easily torn apart to see what lay beyond. Yet he didn’t. He didn’t pry, no matter how easy it would be. Just like how she didn’t petrify him, regardless of how easy that would be.

She smiled at him, warm and genuine, a tentative admiration bolstering the glow in her eyes. Suddenly he felt himself blush. He’d meant it. Even under the flickering lamplight of the old bar, she was no less beautiful, no less magnificent to behold.  Her smile was open, honest, and he felt humbled by the privilege of seeing it.

“I’m proud to know you too Jace.” She offered him her mug, as if for a toast. They clinked them together with a small laugh. 

Jace couldn’t help but wonder how insane his former self had been to miss out on this.


End file.
